A Poignant Providence
by laciwhit
Summary: Some loves were just never meant to bloom, as Marcus Flint soon comes to accept. Ships: AJ/MF ... hint of AJ/OW
1. Prologue

He loved her. Not in the ordinary sense, to be sure. It's quite a different connection than the average couple can attest to. He _felt_ her. Her pain, her joy. Emotional or physical, he felt it all. From the smallest prick of the finger, to the darkness of overwhelming grief. The same went for an embrace, or her merriment from winning a Quidditch match. But whatever she felt, he received it twice as strongly. Her being in pain nearly killed him and whatever joy she sensed filled him with such contentment. Her face was in his dreams every night. He grew restless when she was too far from him. He needed her just as he needed oxygen and he needed her safe and happy.

His father called it a curse. "When the Flint men fall in love, it is equivalent to burning in hell." Not that he knew about her, he would be furious. Angelina Johnson wasn't exactly the type of companion his father had in mind for his only son; an ally to Dumbledore, dedicated to the purging of the Dark Lord. And yet, Marcus knew he could never love anyone the way that he loved Angelina. He also knew that there was absolutely no way that he could be with someone else so long as she drew breath. He would lie to his father to keep her safe.

He loved her so deeply, but she barely noticed him. In some ways it was easier for him like that. So long as she wanted nothing to do with him, there was no need for her to be dragged into his hectic and dangerous life. He also didn't have to explain his feelings for her to anyone. But there were also many drawbacks to her indifference. Like the times when he wanted nothing more than to hold her until her pain deceased, or the times when he needed to hear her voice or see her face in order to breathe again. How she tortured him and yet soothed his very soul. Ironically, the only person who could possibly understand his situation was the one person he would never tell.

His father too once loved as he did. William Flint loved his wife Averill so much that it killed her, that _he_ killed her. Averill disapproved of William's involvement with the Dark Lord. It hurt her deeply to see her husband destroy so many lives. Averill's pain tore at him for many years until one day, he couldn't bear it anymore. Now, William's connection to the Dark Lord was much too strong for either Averill or their son to walk away unharmed so, he did the only thing that he could think of to prolong his Averill's old life. He killed her and she was buried behind their manor so that William could visit her often. He was relieved that she no longer felt any pain, but his heart was never whole again. Marcus was only five at the time. It sickened him to think that he may be capable of committing the same heinous crime against Angelina. After all, it was in his blood. _No._ _It won't happen_. He would be different, he would be stronger... he had to be.


	2. A Beginning

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own anything pertaining to the world of Harry Potter.

The dream again. Back to those forever plunging waters. Back once more to the icy struggle against the commanding current. She was drowning. Face pale and eyes wide, she wrestled with her death while clinging to life. Hope seemed idle. The water slowly filled her lungs and her struggles softened. The troubled sea had won. Her empty body would now only be moved by the will of the current. So much water...

Marcus Flint awoke with a start, gasping for air. He urged his breathing to steady and wiped the sweat from his ashen face. How that dream unsettled him. He looked around, taking in every possible detail of his dark room.  
"Dream, it was a dream." He whispered over and over again, but it did not calm him. So many nights had that dream haunted him, but never once had she lost the fight. Never once did he have to watch her die, until now. The very worst part of it all was that _she_ was in control of the dream. For months now she has been in pain and as her sadness deepened, the dream worsened.

Flint relaxed back in bed. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He opened his mind, searching for her. _Nothing. _The distance is too vast. He exhaled quickly and inhaled more deliberately than last time. Just one second of connection was all that he needed. _Nothing. _Frustration filled him and he sprung angrily from bed. He snatched the vase from his dresser and thrust it to the floor. Shards of blue china littered the ground, but he took no notice. He pulled himself to the window and placed his palms on the cool glass. Now almost hyperventilating, he tried to calm himself. He pushed his forehead to the window and stared out across the fields of night.  
"Come on, Angel." He pleaded. And once more he reached for her. That did it. He found her. He could feel her tear stained face, her numbness, and her faded will to smile. He wished that there was some way to touch her mind, to fill her empty core, but there was none. He could do nothing. A few more moments of her misery and then he found what he was looking for, the reason she had "died", the reason for her new found brokenness.  
"Marcus?" The knocking broke his focus. "Are you awake son?" Marcus sighed in defeat and slowly drew away from the window.  
"I'm awake, Dad." William Flint poked his head through the door.  
"You alright sport? I thought I heard something break." He entered the room, head searching for the evidence. "Ah-" He said as his eyes found the broken vase. "STARLA!!!" William bellowed. And just as the name had left his lips, there was a _crack _and a young female house elf stood in the centre of the room.  
"What is my master's will?" She asked bowing her nose to the floor.  
"Clean this up quickly and be gone." He ordered austerely.  
"I'm alright Dad-" Started Marcus. "sorry about the vase." _Crack, _Starla was finished and gone.  
"It's of little matter. I disliked it, not worth fixing. My only concern is for _why_ it was broken." Marcus shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable. "You were screaming in your sleep again." William went on.  
"Was I?" Marcus asked, trying his best to sound taken aback. "Sorry if I woke you. Maybe you should put a soundproof spell on my door. Wait, I can do it now since that I am finally free of school. That rule of "no magic" was really a time killer, eh? I think that-"  
"Marcus..." Interrupted William. "Don't change the subject. I think I have the right to know what passes through your mind." _Silence. _Marcus avoided his father's eyes. He needed to think of a way out of this, charily. William pressed on. "You're all that I have left of her, Marcus. Don't betray me by shutting me out." His father had just done it. He presented him with the only possible "out" that wouldn't raise suspicion. Marcus planted his words cautiously.  
"I dreamt about mom." William's eyes immediately light with understanding. "She was drowning and was trying to pull me under with her. I kept fighting, but a part of me wanted to go with her, you know?" William nodded his head solemnly.  
"My boy, my boy." He mused. "Perhaps we should have talked about your mother more. No, on second thought, I think you know quite enough about her. Let her be, Marcus. Don't think about her anymore, don't dream about her." His voice grew firm as he went on. "I'll talk to Greta and see if she knows anything about banishing dreams. Anyway, that is not the reason I came to talk to you." Marcus exhaled in relief. He had just miraculously dodged a potentially macabre situation. William continued. "As you know, my good friend Carlaw's son is set to marry Mayleen Johnson." Marcus fought really hard to maintain his look of indifference. He knew exactly what his father was about to say, he'd already found out through someone else. "I said to Carlaw, the Flint estate is yours for the wedding, if you so wish it. For the poor fellows place is hardly large enough, or grand enough to host a wedding. And as he so often points out, our grounds are very fine indeed, especially now that summer has called for blooming." Pride oozed from every word that William spoke. "He of course accepted and the wedding is now pushed up to this Saturday." William paused and looked to Marcus for his reaction.  
Marcus smiled and recited his planed response.  
"Of course the wedding should be here. It would be madness at Carlaw's!" William beamed at his son's judgement. "When do our guests arrive?"  
"Tomorrow afternoon, assuming that this day has already begun." The day had already begun as the first signs of dawn peeked weekly on the horizon.  
"Great. I'll be here to help with whatever you need."  
"That's my boy. Sleep some more now. We can talk about this in a few hours over some breakfast." William ruffled his son's hair and left the room.

Marcus sat on his bed in silence. He would find no more rest tonight. Not so long as he knew what she was feeling. His eyes returned longingly to the window. So, her mother had finally told her that her sister was to marry a death eater. Of course there is no proof that he is in fact one but, no one could doubt his family's devotion to the dark arts. The saying "like mother, like daughter" certainly proves true in this situation. History was to repeat itself. Angelina's mother, Valory Johnson, also married into the dark side of the wizarding world. Angelina's father was a faithful death eater, but disappeared shortly after her sixth birthday and was never to be heard of again. Angelina resented her mother for that connection and so when her sister started up a romance with Radley Carlaw, Angelina did her best to dissuade her. With no avail, Mayleen eventually became with child and gave birth to a daughter, Able. This new tie with death eaters shattered Angelina, but she soon grew very fond of Able and found a way to cope. However, news of the marriage had greeted her with a reality that she was not willing to accept. She had always felt that her family was slowly fading into nothing and she saw this union as the finale to the inescapable doom of the Johnsons. Still, she would attend the wedding. She would force warm smiles to her lips all day and hold her sister's train down the aisle. It would be her last act as a Johnson. He had felt her growing detachment and now her every last hope for a rebirth had surely been undone. He could do nothing for her. Well, nothing that would help her in the long run.

Marcus wrestled with his helplessness. The thought of her being in a house full of death eaters terrified him. His stomach flipped as he re-evaluated that thought. She, Angelina Johnson, would be in his house. Sleeping, eating, and breathing in his house. The very idea of such close proximity threw his senses into a frenzy. His heart pounded in his ears and blood rushed to his face. He could no longer control his breathing or the waves in his chest. Defeated, he allowed his body to bend to the thought of seeing her again. And it would be so soon. How would he ever make it through today? Marcus lay back in bed, forcing himself to relax. He refused to lose focus of what really mattered, Angelina's life. He would do whatever was in his power to get her through this week. Hopefully it would be enough.


End file.
